


Whispers in the Garden

by dragonswithjetpacks



Series: Aeva Lavellan - The Wolf Hunter [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Lavellan angst, Sad Solas, Solavellan Angst, Solavellan Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonswithjetpacks/pseuds/dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: Inquisitor Aeva Lavellan can no longer sleep. After the events of the Exalted Council and a second long discussion with her inner circle, Aeva decided to dis-ban the Inquisition. Her life was now devoted to the destruction of the Betrayer. Still, her mind wanders when she sleeps. And even when she refuses to close her eyes, she can still hear the whispers below...
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Series: Aeva Lavellan - The Wolf Hunter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037817
Kudos: 7





	Whispers in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, you know. Just the cliche eluvian in Skyhold Solavellan bit. Enjoy!

There were nights that seemed too quiet and they were becoming more frequent as the days passed. Skyhold, once bustling at all hours of the night, was going dark. The echoes of footsteps would flood the halls and she could often hear them accompanied by the shouting from the courtyard. There was usually a hammer busy at steel somewhere near the smithy. Agents would be up keeping the workers company or prepping for the next day's task. Aeva would sit on her balcony, her robe wrapped tightly around her, and watch them all. But as she sat there that night, there was nothing to see. The fires that once burned brightly on torches below were snuffed out. The tavern door was shut tight. The courtyard was nearly empty. A man on the parapet across from her caught her eye and gave something between a wave and a salute. She could only respond with a sigh.

Aeva took her leave, grasping her goblet by the brim as she let the front of her robe fall open. Skyhold was always cold, yet she still refused to shut the door. It was easier for her to sleep with the air coming in and her body wrapped beneath a warm blanket. Her fire was always lit and the combination of the crisp breeze and crackling fire seemed to subdue her quite well. Before, there was often a body next to her. It would sneak up the stair case in the middle of the night. Sometimes, she would still be awake hovering over scrolls across her desk. Other times, she was neatly tucked away. She would feel the blanket raise gently and a hand slide across her back. Even with him gone, she felt that warmth every night when she tried to sleep.

There was nothing that could help her. No tea, no spell, no replacement would make her feel safe to sleep again. There was always something. Whispers in the corners of her mind. Figures of halla, wolves, and snakes. Reflections in forgotten mirrors. He was always there watching her in some way. So she sat awake, rotating between energizing tea and calming wine. There were times she would allow herself to close her eyes. But she never slept longer than an hour or two. And she made sure the agents knew that. One stood at her door and would check on her every three hours. If that agent failed, Aeva would send them away and she would search for a new, more prompt agent she could rely on.

"Looks like we've gotten rid of the busy work, Rogue," Aeva said while scratching the head of her old decrepit cat.

The cat purred loudly and stood up to stretch over the papers. They, too, were growing thin. Ever since the Exalted Council, the Keep was clearing out. Which meant less paperwork. Less agents. Less work to do. Aeva, herself, had packed several bags. But she refused to leave. She wanted to be the last one to go. Skyhold was her home. And she wanted to make sure she was able to give it a proper farewell. The heartbreak of so much ending left her vulnerable, allowing memories to flood in without a moment's warning. There were so many good thoughts within those walls. But most of them were of the garden. In the midst of her thoughts, there came a longing for her to see it. This was no unusual. And Aeva was known to be seen wandering the gardens late at night.

In fact, it was quite common to see her strolling through it under the moonlight. She would leap over the walls. Skip to the rotunda. And sneak into one of the covered stair cases leading into the library. Aeva smiled, biting her lip at the bitter sweet memories. But those memories... they were lies. Still, the feelings were quite real. And she wanted nothing more than to remain true to those feelings, if anything. The decision was already made to descend the stair case. But there was still a battle within herself not to put on the robe. Not to grab the candle. Not push the door open. Not to walk into the dark and empty main hall. But as she did, she looked around in wonder. The door to the rotunda was slightly cracked. And a faint light came from the inside. He was always up this late. There was always a chance she would open the door, peering in curiously as he sat next to the wall. Sometimes he was on the floor. Other times, he was perched atop the scaffold with a torch. There was always paint everywhere... always on his face.

But as she peered into the crack in the door, he was not there. Instead, a scholar was sitting at his desk, sketching away. He paused for a moment. Scribbled something in a small journal. Then went back to doing the best he could to replicate the murals on the wall. Aeva let out a heavy sigh, turning to head back across the hall. She should have gone back to bed. She should have taken the dark hall as a sign that no one decent would be out this late at night. She should have... but she didn't. The moment her bare feet touched the dirt beneath Skyhold, she felt free. The air that hit her lungs was rejuvenating. And the sight of all the flowers she had planted brought life into her eyes. It was her life's work. Not that the Inquisition was never fulfilling. It was. But the garden... this was _**her**_ gift. It was what she would leave behind as her mark. They would be her legacy of what she gave to Skyhold.

And as she caressed them, their petals folded inward to protect their insides, she thought she could hear them whisper. The voices were quite common. Especially the consistent banter of elven she never could understand. But in the short time she had with them, she could tell the difference between ancient babble... and the actual whispering of someone nearby. Her ears twitched, suddenly alert. The sounds came from nearby. But she did not sense another physical presence. This was something different, yet familiar. Her eyes darted around the garden. There was something different. Another door was cracked...

... the eluvian...

Slowly rising from her place on the ground, she stared a long while at the door before she approached. There was no way Aeva was prepared for a fight. And though she knew guards would be close, she still grew suddenly afraid of her well being. This was the most vulnerable she had ever been. No weapons. No one around. No cover. Aeva was in the place she loved the most... the place she grew to love... if there was ever a place she was able to feel afraid and still be empowered, it was her garden. She went to the door. It opened smoothly, without a sound, and she was surprised when nothing in it appeared to be moved. She was certain someone was there. Or perhaps... it was her desire to need someone there... It was not her first time going to the mirror. There had been many other attempts to draw something from it. In the back of her head, she could herself screaming how desperate she appeared. But she did not care.

The candlelight reflected strangely off the mirror. It seemed duller, somehow. Like something was attempting to use it's weight to put it out. Everything in the mirror was a grayish tone. And to her it hummed with a familiar sound. She put down the candle on a table nearby and approached it cautiously. It was still active. And she knew there was always someone on the other side. Sometimes she wondered if they were waiting for her to come alone so that they could strike her, take her out before she could do any more damage. Or possibly worse. They could take her. Whisk her away to the Crossroads. Part of her wanted either of those things to happen. And perhaps that's why she always wondered to the mirror. Alone. In the middle of the night. After several glasses of wine.

There was something she saw in that mirror. Not physically, of course. But it was always there. Many tried to convince her to smash it. Aeva knew, however, the mirror was too important. It was the only thing that connected them, now. It was important not just for Inquisition reasons but for others. It was important... to them both. And she reached out to touch it as if she were touching a person. Her finger tips caressed the cold smooth surface softly. It wavered to her touch. She brought her hand back, right to where her arm used to be, grasping it tightly. She lowered her head, feeling the sting in her eyes where tears wanted to force themselves out. Not in front of the mirror, though. Never.

"It's me again," she whispered, leaning closer to it.

The stupidity she felt was always enough to discourage her, but never to stop her. She bit her lip and listened, as if something would whisper back. She could always hear it. But it was never the voice she was looking for.

"This will be the last time we see Skyhold."

Aeva waited in another long pause.

"They're taking it away. I can't say where the mirror is going... or where I'm going... but this will be the last time."

The longer she fell quiet, the more she thought she could hear him. But it never was. The longing to hear his voice one more time was stronger than anything she had felt. The words he left her with were not enough. She pressed her forehead against the mirror, unable to control the soft sobbing that escaped her lips. A tear ran down her cheek. And the air became frightfully cold. It was like a door had opened in the empty room. Then, the mirror began to glow. The reflections began to twist and turn. The air became stronger, extinguishing the candle on the table. The light became brighter, forcing her to step back and shield her eyes that were accustomed to the darkness.

For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.

His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.

With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.

" _Vhenan_ ," he whispered. 

The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.

"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.

He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.

"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.

Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.

"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."

The strength in her legs had returned as he felt her footing properly straighten her stance. Though, she did not pull away from him. Her hand fell to his chest.

"This look that you're giving me... it's what I see every time I close my eyes."

Her words trembled. And his were lost.

"I don't need your pity," her voice rose and there was a quiet echo in the room.

There were two voices he could hear apart from the woman in front of him. One told him he loved her. He missed her. That he visited her to see her face. The other told him he wanted to watch her. To hunt her. To find a weakness. Both were his own voices. And both were true. But neither one were voices he wanted to listen to. And neither found their place when he spoke.

"Alright," he agreed.

"Alright?" she repeated.

The fire in her eyes subsided. But the smoldering in her chest still burned. Aeva knew his face too well. It may have been the name of a God, but the face was still Solas. She knew the crease in his brow, the slight tilt of his head, the tightening of his lips. She knew that the look he was giving said more than what his voice could. He knew nothing he could say would appease her. And he was trying so desperately to tell her everything in a different way. Looking back at her, though... he knew she did not want to hear it. Not from his lips. Or his eyes. Or his touch. There as nothing more he could do.

"Then..."

"... yes," he nodded, closing his eyes to avoid seeing the relief on her face. "This will be the last time I see you."

"No... it won't," her words were firm.

He opened them to see that her fires were reignited.

"I'll find you after I leave Skyhold. I don't know when. And I don't know how. But I'll find you... and I'll..."

"I know," he interrupted her. "You don't have to say it. I know."

"I _**hate**_ you," she said, tears streaming once again. "With everything I have left."

He was quiet. And he let her stare at him angrily for as long as she wanted. But he still had not let her go. He wanted to. It was right that he should. But he couldn't. He knew if he did, it would be the last time he would touch her. As if she knew, she leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his chest. It was cold. It wasn't warm, like his bare skin. It wasn't even close to the way she wanted it to be. Nothing about it was for either of them. But there they stood within the moonlit room, the reflection of the obscure mirror showing them embracing in a contorted way. The room grew cold again and he felt the wind brushing against the back of his neck.

"I have to go," he whispered into her hair.

Aeva couldn't respond. There was a moment where they stood her arm's length apart, both of them clasping the other's forearm. Somehow, he couldn't bare the thought of their last touch being taken away through a thick layer of armor. He wanted to feel her skin, as well. Without giving his voices a second to speak against him, he rushed forward, pulling her close, and closing the gap between them with a kiss. It was his choice that made certain it was to be remembered. He parted his lips, opening her mouth and closing again to taste her. He wanted to take her through the mirror. He wanted to dress her in silk. He wanted her to lay in the bed amidst elven ruins. But he knew Aeva wanted nothing like that. What Aeva wanted... she wouldn't be able to have...

This would be letting go. Their love had ended with a mirror. And now, their hatred would begin with a mirror as well. His hand fell when their fingers untangled while her's reached out in hopes he would come back.

"Aeva..."

He paused, one hand on the frame. His face...

"... This wasn't another dream..."

He pulled his leg through to the unknown land beyond the mirror. But his face... It was still him. It was always him. It may have not been the truth, but the man that was revealed to her was still the man he was. And she so desperately wanted him to know that. She wanted him back, even if his name was different. He was not different. The subtle touches. The soft whispers. The gentle kisses. The brief glances. The late nights. The heavy breaths. Within it all, she knew there was nothing about those moments that were not real. 

"Solas," she cried after him.

He did not turn back. The next step he took signaled the mirror to close behind him.

"Solas!"

She ran to the mirror, slamming against it with her bloodied fist.

"You don't have to do this," she called into the mirror. "I don't..."

Her breathing became heavy and her chest tightened. The lump in her throat made it hard for her to speak. And the tears were making her vision blurry.

"I don't want to kill you," she pleaded. "Please!"

But the mirror stood still. The night stood still. It was as if nothing had happened at all. There was only quiet sobbing of Aeva in the abandoned room next to the garden. The place she loved.


End file.
